


Trace The Lines Of Your Skin

by Nyxierose



Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:15:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6183898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Jocelyn draws Luke and doesn't tell him (+ one time she does).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trace The Lines Of Your Skin

**Author's Note:**

> From this prompt - http://ladygawain.livejournal.com/83265.html?thread=1022017

It's his fault the first time, or so Jocelyn will tell herself in hindsight. Everyone else gives her _practical_ things for her fourteenth birthday - weapons, mostly, a few books and one utterly horrific dress from a distant relative Joss is pretty sure she's never actually met. What she wants does not factor into any of this, just as it has not factored into any other element of her life, and she's made her peace with that or at least that's what she tells Luke a few days later.

"That doesn't make it okay," he murmurs, too good-hearted for their world even then.

"It's like I'm not a person at all," she hisses. "I can be the girl they want, I'm good at being that, but-"

"Does this help a little?"

Luke pulls a sketchbook from inside his jacket. It's small and simple and questionably wrapped with a length of green ribbon, but it's still enough to make Jocelyn's eyes light up again.

"You didn't need to-"

"We're friends, Joss. Wanted to actually give it to you on your birthday, but… stuff happened."

"I love you," she breathes, pulling him close for a hug that lasts several seconds too long to be considered friendly.

That night, she uses the first page in the sketchbook to draw him. He's beautiful, she decides as she makes the outlines - still growing into his features, and likely one of those people who doesn't hit their full glory until middle-age, but beautiful now nonetheless. It's hard to put that on paper, all the invisible things that made her latch onto him the moment they met, but she tries and it's _enough_ and then she finishes and she decides he will never ever see it and neither will anyone else.

Too personal, she thinks. Too damn personal.

\--------

The second time, she's twenty-one years old and everything she ever thought she wanted has just been exposed for the dangerous lie it is and she's lucky enough to find someone to find solace in. Luke loves her and it's the most beautiful thing in the tragedy that is her life, only thing keeping her intact and fighting. He's protective in a way that feels like a warm blanket wrapped around her, kind and empathetic and reliable and oh how she loves him too.

She shouldn't, she knows. She's _married_ , and never in her wildest nightmares did she ever think of herself as that sort of woman. But with the situation she's in now, normal rules don't exactly apply, and Jocelyn justifies it easily enough.

She needs comfort. She needs to love and be loved. Only makes sense she'd do that with someone who's already the other half of her heart.

She is the dangerous one here, she will remind herself later when the nightmare gets even worse. She is the one who clings to him, the one whose body wraps so perfectly around his and the one who cries even though she is _never_ that sort of vulnerable. To his credit (and her total lack of surprise), Luke just goes with whatever she flings at him. He holds her when that's what she wants, gently touches her and reminds her that she is whole and good and undeserving, never once questions her. It's enough, she tells herself, to justify a few questionable choices.

She kisses him first. She draws the line right there, knows damn well that anything more than that might lead directly to both of their deaths, but she kisses him because she wants to feel something and he kisses her back because apparently he wants the same and it's almost almost perfect. Forbidden, wrong, yet perfect beautiful good and for the first time in over a year Jocelyn feels _free_.

The day after, alone and processing, she draws Luke as he was the moment after he confessed his love. This time her pencils find his softness, this time she captures the hope in his eyes. He's magnificent, this man who is helping her reclaim herself, and she wants to remember that forever.

This one she burns because she is dead if anyone ever sees it. They're both dead, but somehow she suspects her fate will be more painful.

\--------

The third time, just under a year later, she draws as he sleeps beside her and there's almost too much pain in her heart but that's what makes it necessary. Her dearest one has undergone something horrific, and now she keeps vigil as he recovers because it's all she can do.

She thought he looked bad after the attack itself. That was true enough, she supposes, but the morning after his first transformation is worse. Too many bruises and cuts, some of which look to have been done with intent. She gets it, accelerated healing is the only real perk of the species, but that does not change the fact that Luke looks like hell and _she_ cannot look away.

"It's not fair," she murmurs, stroking his head. He's warm, at least, same as he always has been and thank goodness for some things staying the same. "You're not a monster, my darling. You could never be a monster."

It breaks her heart all over again to draw the scars and scratches, yet Jocelyn feels obligated to record them. Damaged as he is, there's still such light in his soul and she is amazed by the contrast of it all. The man who almost tried to take his own life twelve hours ago now rests with his head in her lap, human once more and determined to fight. She wishes she had his strength.

"I will always love you," she murmurs, kissing his closed eyelids. "I will always love you, no matter what you become."

\--------

The fourth time, she's twenty-five years old and eight months pregnant in a city she doesn't yet know and she needs to be reminded of the few good things she's ever had. She's so scared lately - she knows she shouldn't be, she's free now and that ought to count for more than it does, but she's alone and helpless and not entirely sure she wants any of this.

There's not money for sketchbooks now. There's barely enough for the questionable apartment with a heater in possession of a stronger and more volatile personality than most humans, and Jocelyn is determined not to raise her child in that place but she's gotta start somewhere. She can afford that and food and other necessary expenses, but very little luxury for now. Necessary sacrifices, she reminds herself, as if that makes it feel any better.

Still, the itch is there, so she improvises. She draws the probable love of her life on a napkin in ballpoint pen, closes her eyes after every line to makes sure she gets the details right and tries not to cry. Wherever Luke is - she knows he's still alive out there somewhere, he _has_ to be, he _has_ to keep fighting just like she has - she hopes he's safe. Hopes he's happy. Hopes he thinks about her sometimes, in the best ways.

Ultimately, that drawing looks nothing like him, but it's enough to calm her heart. She folds the napkin back up and sticks it in her pocket, a reminder that even though distance sucks, she is not alone. She is never going to be alone.

\--------

The fifth time, they're twenty-eight and he's buried under blankets in her bed and all is right with the world. She's still days from fully processing the last twenty-four hours of her life, but what she knows for sure is this - Luke is here, right where he belongs, and he means to stay.

She could feel the tension in his body last night as they collapsed into each other, reunited after almost four years. Too damn long, they both agreed, and then there was no need for words. Only touch, innocent at first but then so much more once their daughter was safely tucked in bed. (Luke's been around for less than a day and they've both accepted the inevitability of co-parenting. It's kinda beautiful.)

Ten years of wanting, and likely another ten before they can collide again, and oh how beautiful it was. Jocelyn does not feel at home in her body, perhaps never will, but she got closer than ever last night. Close as Luke touched her, close as he kissed the parts of her that she'd only ever associated with pain, close as his body fused with hers and they both became whole. Close after, close as they lay beside each other and his hand reached for hers and it felt like every moment of her life had only existed to prepare her for this one.

"I love you, Joss," he'd whispered, kissing her cheek all warm and wet and innocent.

Now, the morning after, she draws their glory.

She's not sure if Luke's objectively a good lover. Better than what she's got to compare him to, yes, but that's really not a challenge and all it took was his kindness. And he _knows_ her, and it's lovely to be able to say that about someone in a good way, and his skin feels right against her skin and she supposes that's all that matters. She loves him and she will take him into her bed again and the rest is detail.

It's a vague drawing, but she feels desire pool in her core as she creates it. She chooses to focus on the aftermath, their naked bodies sprawled on the sheet, his cock not yet fully soft and her cunt dripping. It's _graphic_ , and she's almost ashamed except that who could ever fault her for capturing such beauty? She is a woman awakened and in love, and it deserves to be remembered properly.

Once the paper is folded and safely buried in her sock drawer, she returns to the bed and wakes Luke with a gentle kiss. Once they both leave this space, this part of their relationship goes on indefinite hold again, and she wants as much as she can before that happens…

\--------

The sixth time, interestingly enough, is the day she marries him.

They're curled up in their bed at the country house, flipping off tradition one last time, and they have an hour before the madness that is preparing for their wedding begins. She's mostly on top of him as usual, their limbs entwined, and they've both been awake for a while when she gets a brilliant idea.

"Can I draw you?" she murmurs, beginning to untangle herself.

"Course," Luke replies. "Any reason?"

"Two," she smirks. "One, because you are the most beautiful person I have ever known and it feels better to say that _now_ than it will in seven hours in front of three hundred and something people I don't really know. And two, because I've kinda been doing it for years and I finally figured I should tell you."

"You are the most magnificent person I've ever known, Joss."

"So you're not bothered?" she laughs.

"Curious, a little, but bothered… never gonna happen with you, babe."

"Good. Now stay still for a while."

This time, this time she makes it good. She draws the way the sunlight hits his skin, almost making him glow, and the depth of his eyes when he's completely paying attention to something. She draws the scars that remind her of how brave he is every time she sees them and the scars that remind both of them that sometimes even their own heads aren't safe. She draws him as he is, the other half of her heart and the love of her life and so many things she can't put into words, and this time she lets him see.

"I'm not always good with words, Luke, but… I am honored to become your wife today and spend the rest of my life with you."

He puts the paper aside and then pulls her in for a kiss. "And I am honored to have you," he murmurs, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. "For so, so many reasons."


End file.
